All I Ever Wanted
by IronAmerica
Summary: Julia gets what she wanted. It's not what she expected. Future-fic, tag to episode 8.


Hey, it's a new story! Julia's thoughts as her husband takes over the world.

Un-beta'ed, so quibble away.

- o – o -

All I Ever Wanted

Julia's happy. She knows she is. She has to be.

This is what she wanted: Her husband, in charge of the Militia. Jason is safe; he's got command of a large unit. (The blatant nepotism should bother her, but it's still not as bad as Monroe's cronyism that nearly tore the republic apart when the recipient of the favoritism left.) Her husband is the most powerful man in the world—literally, since he now has five of the twelve pendants.

Julia ignores the servant who brings breakfast into her room every morning. The girl has dark shadows under her eyes, and bruises on her arms and legs. Julia doesn't want to see her—she's just a rebel. Was, Julia amends. The girl doesn't matter anymore. (Julia does find it odd that the blonde waif wears the Militia brand, though…) The girl leaves her service a few weeks later. Julia pretends that it's because the sullen girl grew bored of working for the president's wife (as if that could happen). She knows it's because the idiot tried to take something that belonged to Tom. Her husband always was possessive…

She doesn't take walks around the capitol like she used to. She doesn't mind, though, because the gardens in her new home are quite lovely and take up so much of her time. The woman buries herself in them every day, to forget that she lives in this world. The flowers bloom, and their heady scents are almost enough to keep the smell of burning flesh at bay. Tom was never kind in his rage. The Purge is a good example.

The woman spends a lot of her time reading. There's not much else to do. She lost interest in television when it became obsolete. She tells herself that she prefers reading to watching her husband give propaganda speeches on the state-approved network. He has eight pendants now. Julia has electric lamps in her room. She never uses them.

Julia pretends that her husband is just busy. Self-delusion is the best way to keep herself safe in this new world. She has everything she wanted. Her husband is powerful. Jason is safe. The Georgia Federation broke almost a year ago, and the Monroe Republic (Tom never bothered changing the name; why should he, when it would just mean having to update maps, which are so expensive to make) is steadily taking the Republic of Texas. The Plains Nations have given up. They're a protectorate of the Monroe Republic.

Her husband is powerful, and that's all that matters.

Julia prefers her idea that her husband spends almost every night working through the paperwork involved with running the world. She took the key he keeps around his neck once, and went into the room he always keeps locked. It led into a small but sumptuous apartment. Julia's breath caught in her throat as she saw the boy sitting on the windowseat, dozing fitfully. She knows him—Rachel's son, her youngest child… His name is Danny, Julia thinks. She presses a hand over her mouth as one of his legs slides off the cushion and out from under the heavy blue robe he's wearing. His leg covered in scabs and raw skin from where the cuff around his ankle rubbed the skin raw. His leg was broken at some point, but judging by how it looks, the bone was never set properly before it healed. It's unlikely that Danny will be running any races, let alone trying to escape.

Julia is happy. She knows she is. Her husband is the most powerful man in the world. He has nine pendants. All of North and Central America are his. The other nations of the world are bowing to him, suing for peace.

She never leaves the house, even to visit her garden. Her servant brings her fresh flowers every day, though. The heady scent keeps the scent of death out of her rooms. Julia finally begs Tom for someone to talk to, to break the tedium of the day. He indulges her, as always, with a smile.

Danny sits quietly in the chair his guards deposit him in. Julia tries not to notice the fresh scarring on his legs, or how he investigates everything with a guarded, suspicious look. He barely speaks; Julia can only coax one or two words out of him. She feels like she's speaking to a brick wall, and that would probably be more responsive.

Julia is happy. She has to be. Her husband has twelve pendants. He is the most powerful man in the world.

Jason is missing. Julia doesn't know what happened to him. She's afraid to ask. (She is _not_ afraid of her husband.)

Danny visits her every other day. Little by little, he speaks more to her. Julia smiles and laughs more. She pretends that she's just talking to her son, or a friend, and not her husband's… What _is_ the masculine equivalent of mistress, anyways? Danny is her husband's lover. Julia can't resent him that, though. She slips a small pot of salve into Danny's hands on one of his visits. He gives her a sad smile as he leaves.

Jason is dead. Julia pretends she doesn't care. She can't. Her husband is the most powerful man in the world. She pretends that she's happy, for his sake.

She has everything she ever wanted. Her husband is the most powerful man in the world.

So why does this victory feel so hollow?

- o – o -

So, what did you think? Good? Bad? Think Julia should have reconsidered her priorities a little? Drop a line and let me know!

Author's note: At 51K! Wooo! (I'm taking a break from NaNoing for the moment. My brain hurts.)

Author's note 2: The title of this fic comes from a song called "Let My People Go", from the _Prince of Egypt_. Quite a few of the lines are appropriate to this story, I think...


End file.
